Prelude
by Acoustic Juliet
Summary: [AU] [Post LMHYBRO] [RL] [Oneshot] What should have happened following the scene in the bar after Jess leaves. “When I told you I loved you, I meant every word. You, Logan, I love you.”


Gilmore Girls AU Post-LMHYBRO RL One-shot What should have happened following the scene in the bar after Jess leaves. "When I told you I loved you, I meant every word. _You_, Logan, I love _you_."

Author's Note: Because, you know, _clearly_ this hasn't been done before.

Disclaimer: All characters and situations from Gilmore Girls are properties of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, and Hofflund/Polone, in association with Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended.

Prelude

"Oh, I'm not going off with Jess!" insisted Rory, exasperated. The conversation fell silent and Rory looked anywhere but into Logan's eyes.

Defeated, Logan sighed, "Come on."

"Where?"

"Let's go, I want to go. I don't want to be here."

Rory folded her arms over her chest stubbornly. "I don't want to go."

"Well, I drove you here and I want to go!" shouted Logan.

"I don't want to go!" she retorted.

"Fine," he huffed, grimacing. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out some loose cash and tossed the bills on to the table. "That'll cover the bill, cab . . . Do whatever you want. It's your choice." She watched in disdain as he stalked out of the bar, out of her life. Ignoring the wrenching feeling within her stomach, Rory turned toward the table and observed the cash. Clutching the crinkled bills in her fist, she looked toward the door and made her way outside.

"Logan!"

Silence.

She turned around and looked in all possible directions; but he was nowhere in sight. Her face tightening—a sure sign of tears yet to come—, Rory pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. Eying the screen tentatively, she sighed and tucked it back inside, and ambled off in the sole direction she knew she should.

Twenty-five minutes later, she stood before the wooden door: 12b.

She knocked apprehensively and waited for him to answer. When he did, she couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his disheveled appearance.

"What are you doing here?"

His voice was monotonous and strained. Rory could smell the alcohol from where she stood a mere few feet away. "I came to make things right with my boyfriend."

Logan stared at her blankly. "Your _boyfriend_, huh?" Rory nodded. "You sure you're not mistaking me for Jack?"

"Jess," Logan chuckled throatily and shook his head, turning slightly away while attempting to close the door.

Rory lurched forward to halt his movements. "Logan, don't," she said, determined. "Don't shut me out because of some stupid fight." He sighed, shoulders slumped, and stepped aside to allow her entry. Rory eyed him momentarily and forced a small smile. Turning toward him, he shut the door with one forceful push and the noise jolted Rory's senses.

"Talk," he said.

Rory sighed. "First tell me why you were such a jerk to Jess," she said, her voice wavering with remorse. "_You_ are my boyfriend; not him—not anymore." Logan shook his head and ambled toward the couch, plopping down on to it in one fluid motion. "If I don't know what's bothering you, then I can't fix this."

Logan groaned throatily. "Do you even remember the things you said to me, Rory? You practically blamed me for the fact that you're out of school, living with your grandparents, and not speaking with your mother."

"I did not," countered Rory, standing before him. Logan gazed at her through glazed eyes. The look of pain did not go unnoticed by Rory. "Maybe a little,"

"It isn't my fault," he said meekly. "You made the decision to take a leave of absence from school. I didn't force it on you."

"I know," she breathed. "I know. I don't know why I went off on you like that."

"Yes, you do," challenged Logan, taking a swig from a half-empty glass on the coffee table. Rory eyed him worriedly. "The second you came back from running after Jess, you went off on me." Rory remained silent. "Whatever he said to you was apparently better than anything I could've come up with. I guess being the supportive boyfriend doesn't outweigh being an intrusive, overly concerned ex-boyfriend."

"He wasn't trying to be intrusive," said Rory, immediately regretting her choice of words. "Logan, I—"

"You came here to fix things, and yet you're defending him to no end," said Logan, his voice thick with anger and annoyance. "That's rich, Rory,"

Peering at him through clouded vision, Rory whispered her next words. "When I told you I loved you, I meant every word. _You_, Logan, I love _you_."

Logan exhaled shakily. "I believe you," he said, his voice hushed. Rory knelt down and grasped his hands with hers, entwining their fingers. Logan stared at their linked hands and gently squeezed hers. "It's hard for me,"

"What is? The commitment thing?"

Logan shook his head, still looking down at their hands. "No," he said. "The commitment thing has come surprisingly easy for me. It's just—I'm not good with words. Buying you Birkin bags, I can do. But . . ."

Rory chuckled and hushed Logan, scooting closer between his legs, resting her elbows on his thighs. "I don't need you to say anything," she reassured. "It's not about what you tell me with your words; it's about what you say with your eyes."

"How do you mean?" asked Logan, gazing at her perplexed.

Rory smiled and slowly leaned in toward him, brushing her lips chastely over his. Lingering for a moment, she pulled away slightly to stare into his eyes. "I don't have to hear how much you care about me," she said softly. "I can see it in the way you look at me. I've never doubted it for one second, Logan."

"Rory, I—"

"No," she interjected. "You don't have to say anything."

"That's what you said the last time," he joked, smirking. Pulling her on to his lap, she straddled him, sinking low to rest her head against his shoulder, her breath warm and delicate on the skin of his neck. He gently rubbed his hands over her back, lulling her into a state of calmness.

"I'm sleepy," she chirped, yawning.

Logan snickered, embracing her. "I think Emily would throw a fit if you didn't sleep there tonight."

"Are you seriously uninterested in having your girlfriend spend the night?" inquired Rory, flummoxed.

"No," chuckled Logan. "But after that awkward sit-down with Richard a few weeks back, and then the horror that was your birthday party, I think I'll pass on having to explain to your grandparents what kept their precious granddaughter out all night long." Rory nuzzled her nose against the crook of his neck.

"I'm too tired to have sex, anyway," moaned Rory as she stifled yet another yawn. "If you're that concerned, I'll sleep on the couch, coward."

"No way is my girlfriend spending a night at my place on the couch," said Logan. "And you're seriously too tired for sex?" Rory nodded. "But make-up sex is supposed to be the best kind of sex. And we've never had a fight worthy of make-up sex. And I truly feel that the altercation we had tonight deserves a fair shot at it."

"Is that right?" sniggered Rory.

"Yes," said Logan, nonchalantly running his hand over her bottom.

"Well, then," she began breathily, "I suppose I can allow you to have your way with me." Logan laughed out loud, his head tilting backward. "You're not supposed to laugh at your girlfriend when she's trying to be sexy."

"_That_ was trying?" piped Logan, cocking an eyebrow.

"Hush, you!"

Pulling her flush against him, he slumped alongside the backrest of the couch and grasped Rory by the hips, bringing her face down to his. He captured her lips in a frenzied kiss, immediately seeking entrance with his tongue. She complied and whimpered, cupping the sides of his face with her hands, holding him steady. She moved against him, causing him to groan, and his hands slid strategically up the back of her jacket and shirt beneath it.

Moving away for just an instant, Rory removed her coat and pulled off her blouse, then began working on unbuttoning Logan's shirt, trailing a series of open-mouthed kisses down his neck as she did so. He sighed and urged her to continue, rubbing his palms up and down her bare arms. Ridding him of the shirt, Rory swiftly undid his belt and unzipped his pants. "Hey," he stopped her, his breathing ragged. "Slow down."

Rory gaped at him. "This is make-up sex," she said breathily. "There's no slowing down in make-up sex."

Logan smirked. "You're the expert," he said. Rolling her eyes, Rory stood and removed her jeans, kicking off her shoes. Logan struggled to contain a bout of laughter. "You're incredibly sexy when you're in a rush."

"Shut up," hissed Rory as she straddled him once more. Her lips found his instantaneously. His tongue sought hers and the heat between them surged. Instinctively, Rory began to move against him, her movements eliciting desperate moans from the both of them. "Logan . . ." Growling ardently, Logan arched off the couch to remove his pants. The sudden move caused Rory to whimper and she shuddered involuntarily. "I don't think . . . I can make it . . . to the bed."

Kissing her neck, Logan unclasped her bra and discarded it on to the floor. "I need you now, Rory," he muttered; already close to the edge, the intensity of the moment caught him off guard. Rory whimpered in response and slithered off of him to lie along the length of the couch. Logan hovered over her and removed her panties, then allowed her to help him in the removal of his boxers. She lifted her legs to lock around his hips and Logan groaned. "I don't know if I can be gentle,"

"I didn't ask for you to be gentle," breathed Rory. "I want you." She arched off the couch and Logan suppressed a groan as her center came into contact with his hardened length.

"Rory . . ."

He thrust into her in one fluid motion, filling her completely. He sighed, content, and burrowed his face into the crook of her neck. It only took seconds for him to begin moving, creating a solid pace.

"More . . ." whispered Rory, perspiration settling on her left brow.

Logan complied and began thrusting into her hastily, their rhythm erratic and hurried. Rory cried out, her face contorted into that of almost unbearable pleasure. Tossing her arms behind her to latch on to the arm of the couch, Rory clawed at the material. Logan reached for her hands, grasping them above her head, the dominance he now held over her throwing Rory into a heated frenzy.

"Logan . . ." she whimpered, hissing as he removed one of his hands from hers to move her leg over his shoulder. She cried out in ecstasy and scratched her nails against the couch—anywhere she could to keep from screaming. Logan moaned ardently and quickened his pace, driving into her with fervor. "I love . . . I . . . _Logan_ . . . I love . . ." Logan pressed his forehead to Rory's, then moved his head between her shoulder and neck, his lips tasting her salty flesh. "Logan, I can't . . . please . . ."

Logan groaned and moved his mouth over each of her breasts. Her vision began to blur and her stomach tightened. Her moans became erratic and cries louder with every thrust. Her walls tightened around him and Logan knew she was close. Moving faster, he thrust into her harder than before. She closed her eyes and felt as though she was floating, the pleasure so intense she thought she may explode. Rory's cries reverberated throughout the room. Her breathing became shortened and she could feel herself floating adrift, her center on fire and muscles clenched around him.

"Logan! Logan!" she repeated over and over again. Her last cry echoed and she involuntarily lurched off the couch into Logan's arms, trembling uncontrollably. Within seconds, he followed her and moaned her name, shaking almost as violently as she was. It took them a few minutes to calm down, the aftershocks of their lovemaking still taking a toll on both of their bodies.

Afterward, they lay in each other's arms, an entanglement of limbs, Logan's head atop Rory's chest, still inside of her. Leaning up, he placed a kiss to the underside of her chin, nibbling gently at her sticky, fair skin.

"We have to move," moaned Rory after a moment's silence.

Logan groaned in response. "I don't want to." Rory chuckled lazily. "I don't think I _can_, actually," he added.

"As much as I'm in favor of post-sex cuddling, you're going to crush me in my sleep if we fall asleep here, like this." Rory smiled languidly and Logan reluctantly moved away. Immediately missing the contact, Rory followed in suit and grasped his hand as he led them to bed.

Logan opened a drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers, and turned to watch Rory throw on a T-shirt and sweatpants—each her own—both of which hugged her curves in the most enticing manner. He smirked and slid into bed, tugging the covers securely over his stomach. Rory smiled as she crawled into bed beside him, her head resting against her shoulder and arm draped lazily over his midsection. His arm came around her shoulders and drew her in closer.

"If every night could be like this, I'd have a lot less to complain about in life," said Rory as she cuddled into Logan's warmth.

Logan snickered and placed a soft kiss to Rory's forehead. "But your mother and grandparents would have a plethora of things to rant and rave about, if you did."

"I don't particularly want post-sex conversation to involve talk about my grandparents or my mother." Logan chuckled and turned onto his side, embracing Rory entirely, his face burrowed into her soft brown locks. "I miss this when you're out of town," she said, sighing, breathing in his distinct aroma.

"Me too," he said, exhaling heavily. "You're still coming to my parents' house for Thanksgiving, right?"

"I have to clear it with my grandmother first," said Rory. "We have Thanksgiving there every year. But I'll admit that with my mom there, it might be weird."

"You don't think it's about time you patched things up with her?" Rory remained silent—contemplative. "I mean, not to force anything on you; but you and your mom had a frighteningly close relationship. I don't quite understand the whole being friends with your mother thing; but I know how much it means to you."

Rory shrugged, resting her forehead against Logan's chest. "I don't know," she said quietly. "Conversation was awkward enough at my birthday party. I'm not sure if I can handle a dinner table full of awkwardness."

"Tell you what," said Logan after a beat, "if we do cocktails and dinner at Emily and Richard's, and then desert and the rest of the evening at my parents', would that make things easier for you on your front?"

Rory sighed. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "It might. I'd feel better if you were there, definitely. But I don't want your parents to think I'm stealing you away. Thanksgiving is all about family, right?"

Logan sighed and shifted lightly on the bed. "Trust me, Ace, you're more family than they ever were."

Rory smiled inwardly at his comment. If that was as close as an "I love you," as she would receive, for the time being, it would be enough.

"I'll talk to Grandma in the morning," said Rory, "and pray to God that she hasn't yet realized that I haven't come home."

Logan groaned and rolled onto his back, pulling Rory on top of him. "You are home," he said nonchalantly. Rory's eyes glazed over and she slid up his body to kiss him soundly on the mouth. "What was that for?"

Rory smirked and rested her head atop his chest, absently tracing circles over his skin. Logan closed his eyes and savored the feeling. "For trying," she answered.

Logan's brows furrowed, bewildered. "Trying what?"

"For trying to use words," said Rory, intently listening to his heartbeat drumming rhythmically against her eardrum.

"Anytime, Ace," he whispered, "anytime."

A moment of silence passed between the two. Logan began to drift into a much-needed slumber, as Rory slid off of him and cuddled against his side. "Logan?"

"Yeah, Ace?"

She thought for a moment. "I think I'm going to call Yale in the morning," she said, snaking her arm over his stomach. "It's about time I get back in the game." Logan smiled lazily and responded by gently tugging her arm. "But I think I'll save my mother for next week. You know, just in case,"

"Of course," whispered Logan, his tone obtrusively tired.

"You'll come with me?"

Logan's eyes opened momentarily to survey the delicacy of his girlfriend's voice. Sighing, he said, "If you want me there, I'll be there."

"Thank you," she said. "I do—you know—want you there." _I need him there, _she thought silently to herself.

"Then I'll be there," he replied very simply.

Rory nestled against his side, his warmth immediately lulling her to sleep.

Logan watched her quietly, the sound of her soft breathing therapeutic to him. Shifting so that she was so flushed against him, his arms completely engulfing his warm frame, he spoke softly into her ear: "Just so you know, I'm falling. I may not be there yet—but I'm getting there, Ace, I promise."

And as his eyes closed, Rory's fluttered open, a soft, languid smile tugging at the corner's of her mouth. Gently taking Logan's hand in hers, she brought it to her lips and delicately kissed it, placing their entwined hands over her heart as she sighed contently, falling into a satisfied and fulfilled slumber.


End file.
